


Five Minutes More

by orphan_account



Category: Borderlands, TFTBL - Fandom, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Short, a break from get gone, continues to never write smut, how dare you judge me, short and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short and fluff. Jack is very tired, proceeds to be grumpy, Rhys makes it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Minutes More

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting around for almost a year. I think it is for someone, but I forgot who and never gave it to them.

The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 1:27 AM. Rhys lurches upright, shaken awake by his bed quaking and a muted thud. Once his eyes adjust to the darkness, he determines the source of the commotion to be the person lying face down beside him. He recognizes the form easily having seen it in the same location many times before.

"Jack? Did you just leave the office?" The only reply he receives is a long exasperated grunt. "Tough day?"

"You don't even know, sweetheart," Jack grumbles.

Rhys does know however. Hyperion has been on a steady march downhill in Jack's absence, now it is more of a burden to manage than an honor. The CEO has a lot of makeup work to do and he puts his entire being into it. Rhys notices that he hasn’t even taken off his shoes.

"Why don't you get more comfortable?" he asserts. Jack complies, eventually relieving himself of all the somewhat unnecessary layers he wears, all but his boxers and the raggedy old Hyperion T-shirt underneath it all. It is a spectacle to watch, as fatigue has taken its toll on his balance, ending with another exhausted collapse onto the mattress. Rhys simply reclines on a  pillow and waits patiently for him to speak.

"Remember when I was a hologram in your pretty little head, cupcake?"

"I wish I didn't."

"There was a lot of shit I used to miss about not having a body, let me tell you, but- Not. Fucking. This."

"What?"

"Sleeping."

_ "Why?" _

"Because it's a waste of time. Think of all the crap you could be doing for 8 hours. That's a load of wasted productivity if you ask me," Jack answers, finally turning over to face Rhys.

"So, what did you do with all that free time when you were a hologram, mister productivity?" Rhys teases.

"Okay, so I meant to say potential productivity. But that's beside the point! I shouldn't have to be the one doing this, _ but no _ , dumb ass employees demand  _ basic needs of survival. _ " He adds air quotes to the last part of his statement. "Not after they get done with that pill I've got em working on--- lets you go three weeks without stopping for a second."

Rhys doesn’t know if that is true, or just random nonsense due to a lack of rest. He elects to believe the latter.

"So you hate everything about sleeping?" Rhys hums, adjusting himself to rest his head on Jack's chest.

"Everything."

"Even pillows?"

"Yes."

"Warm sheets?"

"Especially."

"You don't even like it when I do this?" Rhys asks, wrapping his arm around Jack's waist. He can feel his muscles relax all at once. If Jack hates everything about sleeping, then Rhys is the opposite. He loves the feel of Jack's skin on his, his scent, the sound of his breathing, all of the sensations he craved most when the other was intangible. Most of all, he adores moments like this. Jack just telling him what he thinks, no distractions, no responsibilities, just their legs tangled together, as if melding them into a single being, _ again. _

Jack never does answer his question. Rhys thinks for a minute that he has fallen asleep. His own consciousness ebbs, as does his head which rises and falls with Jack's breath. 

"Well, I guess you really do hate being close to me like this. You don't even slightly care about me touching you for six straight hours," Rhys remarks.

"Wait a minute, cupcake. I never said that."

Rhys laughs weakly, "so I suppose you don't hate  _ everything  _ about it then."

"Okay, you got me. In fact, six hours isn't nearly enough. We're sleeping in."

"Good, because I can't sleep well without you, you know."

"Why's that, pumpkin?"

"Your heart beat puts me to sleep, that's how I remember you're real," Rhys sighs.

His words make Jack a complete mess. Amidst his embarrassment, a thought always occurs to him whenever Rhys acts so sentimental. All his life, whenever he spewed similar emotional garbage, all he got in return was empty promises and a scar. 

Fortunately, Rhys' intuition shines through.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to go anywhere," he whispers. "I promise."

Jack wonders how Rhys can sooth him so quickly. 

"I know, pumpkin."

"Goodnight, Jack."

"Night, Rhysie.”


End file.
